


An Enterprising New Year

by opal_bullets



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Gen, Leadership, Team Dynamics, new year's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-01
Updated: 2010-07-01
Packaged: 2017-10-28 05:33:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opal_bullets/pseuds/opal_bullets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or alternatively: When Bones Finally Agreed with Spock, and Spock Finally Agreed with Bones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Enterprising New Year

 

-o-o-o-

 

Jim was trying to hold a staff meeting. 

“We should just start without him. Captain.” While the title was no longer imbued with sarcasm like it once was, Uhura still managed to insert enough of a pause to remind Jim that he hadn’t won yet. (Actually, her voice didn’t contain a ‘yet,’ but Jim was an optimist.)

“Maybe we should go down there and see if he’s still alive,” Scotty thoughtfully chimed in.

“We’re not doing a thing until he shows up,” Jim stated. He crossed his arms. Then the three officers turned to the only other person in the conference room for the tie-breaker.

Spock regarded them all for a moment. Jim didn’t know if he was collecting his thoughts or drawing out the suspense. Both seemed about equally likely, but the captain of the _Enterprise_ hadn’t quite learned how to read Vulcan body language. Yet. You know, optimism. His first officer shrugged minutely. “Regulation states that all commanding officers of a ship should be present at such a meeting. That includes its Chief Medical Officer.”

Jim kept himself from shouting, “HA!”, but only just. He settled for grinning in Uhura’s direction. _Your boyfriend agreed with meeeee_ , his inner voice sang.

Uhura’s pursed lips clearly projected, _He wasn’t agreeing with you, he was agreeing with regulation. Captain_.

“True enough,” conceded Scotty, interrupting their nonverbal sparring. “But how long are we going to wait? It’s been twenty minutes already.”

“Twenty-two minutes, three seconds,” corrected Spock. “Most inefficient.”

Alright. Jim knew that Bones was just as disparaging about Spock when the Vulcan wasn’t around, and the insults _had_ lessened over the past couple months. But the captain had learned enough about Spock by now to know that calling someone ‘inefficient’ was basically the Vulcan equivalent of calling someone a jackass. “You’re right, Scotty,” he said, standing up. “We may as well go down to Sickbay to check on our CMO. Regulation dictates,” he added, nodding at Spock. The he headed for the door before his first officer could voice his opinion which, at least, he was never too shy to let known.

Sure enough, though they all stood to follow him (Scotty bounced up, Uhura sighed), Spock was almost instantly at his shoulder. “Captain, this is most irregular.”

“Come on, Spock, think of it as an adventure,” Jim said, giving a casual salute to a passing yeoman in the hallway. “I mean, how often do you get down to Medical?”

“I distinctly recall being there eight point five four days ago to check on your recovery status,” he responded smoothly.

Jim’s shoulders tightened at the reminder. That away mission had not put him in the best light. It turns out that winging it, as he’d done most of his life, wasn’t always going to hack it in ‘the real world.’ Of course, he’d thought he _had_ been in the real world, but you don’t really notice the invisible safety net that surrounds you until there’s nothing between you and the universe but the insignia on your chest. Sometimes a little planning wouldn’t go amiss, just like Spock kept telling him. (Actually, he says, “Captain, it would behoove you to consider multiple courses of action prior to carrying out the first ill-conceived notion that occurs to you.”). At least he had the decency of saying that _off_ the bridge instead of questioning Jim’s command in front of the ensigns.

Then he remembered that Spock had just insulted Jim’s best friend. He allowed a grin to steal over his face. “What can I say? Bones needs to be kept busy.” The four of them entered the nearest turbolift and the doors swished shut.

“And when we fetch Dr. McCoy?” Spock continued. “Will we then proceed back to the conference room? I doubt the doctor would want any…discussions in the medical bay.”

Scotty looked curious and Uhura raised an eyebrow – probably something she’d picked up from Spock. Jim wondered if the question stemmed from a concern for efficiency, or if Spock actually wanted to avoid a confrontation with Bones. He decided to stir the waters to see what happened. “Oh, you know Bones. He loves a little extra excitement in his life. We can all squeeze into his office if he doesn’t want us hanging out with the nurses.” He smiled slightly.

Scotty shrugged to himself, seeing that Jim was playing the “let’s all poke Spock with a stick!” game, Uhura looked at him like she was trying very hard not to roll her eyes, and the only hint Jim got that his first officer was perturbed was that he didn’t blink. Or maybe Vulcans didn’t blink as often as Humans. Either one.

At that point the turbolift opened and Jim stepped out first. Spock wasted no time in matching him step for step. “Captain, we cannot have a senior staff meeting in the presence of the nurses. Moreover, the use of Dr. McCoy’s office is unwise as its environment is not conducive to productive meetings.”

“But regulation says we can’t have the meeting without our CMO,” Jim rejoined.

“Yes.”

“Yet Bones isn’t answering his comm.”

“Yes. Which is not only a breach of protocol, but demonstrates a blatant disrespect of the command structure-”

“Oh well, then! I guess we have to go see him. Regulation and that.” Jim strode through the wide doors of Medical before Spock could get his way. “Bones!” he called. “Oh. Hey, Chapel.”

Nurse Chapel looked up from where she was organizing hypos on a tray. “Captain,” she acknowledged, giving a salute. “Commander,” she added, somewhat surprised. A faint blush stole across her pale cheeks.

Spock nodded. “Nurse Chapel.”

Jim filed away this little exchange for further reference, but first things first. He’d wheedle Spock about Chapel later. “Is the doc in?”

“Dr. McCoy’s in his office, sir.”

“Thanks muchly,” Jim replied, figuring the pairing of a noun with an adverb would annoy both Spock and Uhura in equal measure, even if neither of them would deign to show it. He crossed Sickbay confidently, passing empty beds with pressed sheets and machines shined to perfection. It was a bit odd; Jim wasn’t used to being down here when it was quiet.

He stopped in front of the door to Bones’s personal office, and the rest of his entourage stopped with him. The door did not immediately hiss open as he’d expected. Jim knocked: _tap, taptap tap, tap. tap tap._

When there was still no answer, Uhura frowned. “Maybe there _is_ something wrong.”

“Nah,” said Jim, and flipped open the keypad near the door. Even though he hadn’t gotten to know all his crewmembers yet, he’d visited Bones in Sickbay often enough to get a feel for the place. Chapel would have mentioned if she thought there was something off. “It’s just Bones being Bones.”

The keypad chirped in response to his override and the door slid open to reveal Bones sitting at his desk. Sitting at his desk, with his legs stretched out on top of it and head thrown back. Sitting at his desk, and snoring. “Heya, Bones!” Jim shouted.

“Wha- huh- dammit, Jim!” the doctor spluttered, knocking half a pile of PADDs onto the floor as he sat up straight.

The room erupted with the laughter of all the visitors but Spock, who predictably raised an eyebrow. “Doctor, are you aware that approximately twenty-seven point five six minutes ago, you were required to attend-”

“Yeah, yeah, save the lecture, Spock,” Bones grumbled, rubbing a hand across his face. “I know there was a meeting. But I have better things to do than squabble about administration practices all day. I’m a doctor, not a senator.”

“Better things? Like _napping_?” smirked Jim as he bent to help pick up the PADDs.

“Shut up, Jim.”

“Whatever you say, old man.” He dumped his armful of PADDs on the desk and plopped into one of the chairs across from his friend. “Let the meeting begin!”

“What?” Bones asked, finally looking awake. “This is _my_ office, dammit!”

“Well, Spock said we absolutely _had_ to have you present, so we brought the meeting to you! Thank _him_.” Jim turned to look at the other three. “Why are you all still standing? Meeting time, people.”

Scotty shook his head. “It’s alright, Cap’n. There aren’t enough chairs for everyone.”

Jim blinked, feeling like an idiot. There were, in fact, only three chairs in the room: two stood on this side of the desk and Bones wasn’t about to vacate the third, if the scowling and crossed arms were any indication. “It’s cool,” said Jim, jumping to his feet. “I can sit on Bones’s desk.” He immediately did so.

“Like hell, you will!” said Bones.

“No, we’re fine, Cap’n. The lady can take the other chair,” his engineer assured him while Bones tried to shove Jim’s ass from off his medical notes.

Uhura sniffed. “As I’m of the lowest rank here, I can stand. It’s not like I don’t sit in front of the comms system all day.”

“It we’re having a meeting, somebody take the damn chairs so we can get it over with,” snapped Bones. “And don’t think I won’t hypo your ass,” he added to Jim.

“Captain, Lieutenant, sit down,” Spock commanded. “Mr. Scott, with me.” Having gotten the Humans’ attention, he did an about-face and strode out of the room. Scotty looked around at the others, but they all shrugged in response. He slipped out the door behind Spock.

It was only after Jim and Uhura had sat down across from the doctor that it hit him. “Did Spock just give me an order?”

Bones chuckled. Uhura examined her nails.

The three collapsed into silence for a moment, a wary triangle of primary colors, wondering what Spock had roped their Chief Engineer into doing. They heard only the background noises of Sickbay: the gentle humming of monitors, the soft murmur of the staff, a stray cough. Bones voiced his displeasure at waiting by heaving a great sigh.

Jim switched his attention from the ambient noises to his Chief Medical Officer. As wound up as the doctor could get sometimes, he was normally relaxed in the way he carried himself, sprawling his long frame across whatever piece of furniture he happened to settle on. Bones had slouching down to an art. Yet the man in front of him seemed the complete opposite. Sure, he was leaning against the back of his chair, but he was jiggling one of his legs and he’d picked up an errant stylus, which he was tapping in an erratic rhythm on one of his armrests. Jim was forcefully reminded of what Spock had said in the turbolift: “I doubt the doctor would want any…discussions in the medical bay.” Jim had taken that to mean that _Spock_ was trying to avoid _Bones_ , but could it be…

Bones hadn’t shown up at the meeting because _he_ was avoiding _Spock_?

This wasn’t right. This wasn’t right at all.

Adjusting to life as captain of the _Enterprise_ hadn’t been easy. Anybody who said it was easy was a fool. It wasn’t that Jim didn’t make it _look_ easy. Appearances were just as important in space as they were anywhere else. But he worked hard, damned hard, and not just while he was sitting in his captain’s chair either. He was still trying to get a feel for the individual departments, trying to learn the layout of his ship until he could walk it blindfold, trying to do _his_ best to get the best out of his crew.

During those few months after the _Enterprise_ had defeated Nero, many of the nearly-graduated cadets had been shunted into hastily slapped-together courses for advanced positions that, under normal circumstances, would have taken them years in the field to reach. When Jim had been quietly told that he was being given the _Enterprise_ , there were two things he’d done immediately: set up consultation meetings with Admiral Pike to learn the nitty-gritty of running a ship, and start a master list of his dream crew.

Jim had aimed high, so it was little wonder that the people on his list were the best at what they did: Scotty, Uhura, Sulu, Chekov. He’d been willing to fight the admiralty for all of them, even though he’d known that they could be taken away for various reasons. Chekov, because he was so young and they might want to temper him with a more experienced captain; Scotty, because Admiral Archer still had a vendetta against him and would never let him on the flagship; Uhura, because she would personally object to serving under him. And while he’d given his all fighting for them, he would have conceded the battle if it had become counterproductive. But there were two people that he would never, ever have stopped fighting for.

Bones and Spock.

For Bones, the reasons were endless. He was not only an intelligent doctor, but one who genuinely cared about his patients- even if he didn’t always subscribe to the notion of ‘beside manner.’ He was quick on his feet, well-respected by those who knew him (and feared by those who didn’t), and was utterly unshakeable in his convictions about compassion and the sanctity of life. There was no other person Jim would rather have running his Sickbay, and no better friend in the universe.

For Spock, it had been a little more difficult to articulate. Jim knew that part of it was because of his encounter with the elder Spock, and that small spark of curiosity and hope that had been planted by the Vulcan’s unquestionable trust. If Jim wanted to grow into a man that could possibly _earn_ that sort of faith, then he’d somehow felt it necessary for Spock to be there. Thankfully, there had been no need to explain to anybody why he wanted Spock on his ship, as the Vulcan was the very epitome of a Starfleet officer. It had been a nail-biter at the end, but once Spock had accepted the offered position, Jim had been pleased to know all was going according to plan.

After a couple months’ worth of missions it became more obvious why Jim needed Spock – the Vulcan’s greater experience notwithstanding – but Jim was surprised to realize at that moment, that he valued Spock for many of the same reasons he valued the irascible doctor fidgeting on the other side of the desk. Their confidence and knowledge base in their chosen fields, the ability to inspire both loving loyalty and healthy doses of fear in their underlings (whether they knew it or not), their complete lack of regard for what other people thought of them, their unwavering adamancy against needless violence, and the way they never took crap from Jim without ever being anywhere but on his side.

They had also both shown in the past how they felt responsible for Jim, whether it had to do with his command decisions or his own personal well-being. And maybe, just a little bit…Jim felt responsible for the two of them, above and beyond their being members of his crew. They were both private and troubled men in their own ways, and Jim was one of the few people they let encroach upon their off-duty time. Chess games with Spock, an after-dinner contraband cognac with Bones- these were moments that Jim always looked forward to, and had come to treasure.

In their respective spheres, Bones and Spock were the best at what they did. Jim didn’t mind Bones and Spock snapping at each other; it was amusing at best and irritating at worst. They got along with Jim, and made him both a better captain and a better person. Jim’s entire bridge crew and other senior personnel were shaping up to be the best in the Fleet. Despite all their struggles, Jim was convinced that they would get as close to perfection as it was possible to get. So how could it be that the two rocks which formed the foundation of his command actually _hated_ each other? Would shun mandatory staff meetings to avoid each other? And how could Jim have only noticed this _now_?

For the first time since the _Enterprise_ had started her mission, Jim began to doubt himself. He trusted both men with his life, and in fact had done so on several occasions already. And he was certain that their own respect for life would necessitate that they’d save each other’s as well. But if they couldn’t work together on a day to day basis, Jim didn’t only have a problem, he had a fucking disaster in the making.

This disturbing thought had only a second to sink in before the silence split with a clattering of metal. Scotty careened through the door straddling a rolling metal chair and bounced off the side of Uhura’s seat. He then ricocheted into Bones’s desk, shot to the wall behind it, and spun toward the doctor’s own chair in quick succession, forced to halt by the left armrest. Bones glared. The engineer grinned and pivoted so that he was facing everybody else.

Spock was standing in the doorway, taking in this illogical display with his usual equanimity. Now that Scotty was settled between Bones and Uhura, he was obviously calculating the most logical place to position himself. The Vulcan pushed a tall rolling stool toward the middle of the room, stopping at the precise midway point between Jim and his girlfriend. Then, in the most dignified manner he could muster, he perched on the stool and hooked the heels of his boots on the lower rung. Placing a hand on each knee, he stared at the doctor, who was sitting directly across from him.

Bones scowled back.

“Alright,” said Jim. His voice was not as confident as he would have wished, coming so soon in the wake of his revelation. He tried to compensate. “ _Now_ let the meeting begin!” Jim tipped back his chair.

Scotty set his elbows on the back of his small chair and propped up his chin. “I still feel like we’re missing something,” he said, bending and unbending his knees so that he rolled back and forth, back and forth. _Squeaky_ , went the wheels. _Squeaky. Squeaky_.

“That’s because we don’t have a yeoman to take notes.” Uhura rubbed her temples. “I only just remembered.”

“Well, do we really need one? We can just have McCoy’s computer record the meeting,” Scotty pointed out.

Spock shot the idea down immediately. “While doubtless we shall need the computer to record our discussion, regulation states that we cannot officially proceed without someone taking notes. It can be of vital importance to have records in more than one place.”

Bones rolled his eyes. “And what does regulation say about forcing senior staff members to hold meetings in my goddamn office?”

Spock blinked. “…It does not.”

Jim wracked his brain. “Well, who was supposed to be on duty today?”

“Yeoman Rand,” his first officer answered promptly.

“Rand?!” Bones scoffed. “She’s been in Sickbay all morning!”

“I didn’t see her,” said Jim.

“That’s because she’s in isolation. Been puking up her guts. We only just got her to stop. She’s not going anywhere until she’s fully rehydrated, and we find out what the hell caused it.” He glared at Jim.

“Whoa, whoa, how am _I_ responsible for this? I’m not the one throwing up.” Bones gave him a look like he could be very soon. “Okay, so,” he went on hurriedly, “let’s call up Monroe, then.”

“Yeoman Monroe has duty in the astronomy lab today,” objected Spock. “He is not the best choice for a replacement.”

This time Jim felt like rolling his eyes, though he refrained. “There has to be someone who can take over for Rand today.”

Before anyone else could reply, Bones sighed. “Jim, why are we discussing this now? In my office? During a ‘meeting’ for something else? None of us here are even in charge of scheduling! And by the way, I sent you a copy of the memo about Rand over an _hour_ ago.”

“Who _is_ in charge of scheduling?” asked Scotty. _Squeaky?_ added his chair. _Squeaky?_

“Lt. Yobson,” Spock provided.

“Great,” said Jim. “Let’s page her.”

“Lt. Yobson hasn’t returned to the _Enterprise_ yet,” said Uhura.

Jim leaned forward to peer at her from the other side of Spock’s torso. “What do you mean? Didn’t she come back on when we stopped by Starbase 6 yesterday?”

“No,” she corrected. “I received a message from her saying that a major transport shuttle broke down in the Andar system and she would have to rendezvous with us on Argus III. And as I sent you a memo about it two days ago, you should know that. Captain.”

“Right.” Like Jim didn’t get hundreds of memos during the day. “Then who’s been taking her place? Mr. Spock?”

“The lieutenant had simply made schedules for the two weeks she predicted to be absent. As such, there are a total of eight yeomen that could either be available or are able to adjust their day’s schedule in order to attend this meeting. Of course, the best choice can only be determined if we know how long we will be thus engaged-”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” interrupted Bones, throwing the stylus he’d been tapping onto the desk.

“Watch it, McCoy,” snapped Uhura.

Spock raised an eyebrow. “If you are suggesting, Doctor, that you either wish to flout regulation, or-”

“I’ll tell you what I’m suggesting, Spock-”

Here it was, right in front of him, the two people Jim depended on the most biting each other’s heads off. He couldn’t quite figure out where he’d gone wrong. Was there even anything he could do? Jim felt oddly helpless, and hopeless, stuck in frozen fascination like a gawker at a gory crash scene.

“Alright, alright!” Scotty shouted over the two of them (Jim swallowed a sigh of relief). “None of you are looking at the solution, which is obvious, by the way. If all regulation says is that there needs to be someone recording, then it doesn’t have to be a yeoman. One of us can take notes, and then we don’t have to worry about it,” he reasoned. Spock and Bones opened their mouths at the same time. “SO I’LL JUST DO IT, THEN!” Scotty said, and pulled a small PADD out of one of the numerous pockets he’d added to his uniform.

Jim saw Spock give the Slight Vulcan Nostril Flare of Disapproval, but he didn’t say anything, which probably meant he wanted to get on with it just as much as Bones did. “So,” Jim said, “we all ready?” Variations of “Yeah” and “Yes, Captain,” and “Aye,” reached his ears. Jim looked at them one by one. “Nothing else we’ve forgotten? No further regulations we have to acknowledge?”

“No, Captain,” answered Spock, giving him a piercing look. The rest stared.

“Alright,” said Jim. It actually took him a moment to remember what he’d called this meeting for, so removed was it from the new problems he realized he had to face. “So. What should we do on the ship for New Year’s?”

“ _What_?” growled Uhura.

“Jim, if you’re telling me that all this hullabaloo was for discussing _New Year’s_ , I’m going to hypo you into oblivion!”

“Captain, wishing to celebrate the New Year is illogical,” said Spock.

Jim let his chair tip back onto the floor and turned to face Spock more fully. He couldn’t imagine now why he’d thought anyone would give their support. “How is enjoying another year of being alive illogical? Unless you’re talking about celebration in general?”

“That is not what I meant,” Spock responded primly. “We have only just ‘celebrated’ the Terran winter holidays, which affected the efficiency of the _Enterprise_ by approximately nine point four percent.”

To Jim’s estimation, everyone had actually seemed happier during the past couple weeks. “In what way? Scotty, were engines working at their normal capacity?”

The engineer looked up from his PADD. “And better, Cap’n!” _Squeaky!_

“Communications, Lieutenant?”

Uhura sat up straighter. “We’ve been busy sending subspace transmissions from family members, but I wouldn’t say that it’s been hindering our normal work.”

“So…has the science department been working at less than normal efficiency, Mr. Spock?” Jim asked, thinking there was no way Spock would admit himself as anything less than efficient.

“That is correct, Captain.” Jim felt his jaw drop a little and Bones began to choke, presumably on his own spit. Even Uhura looked surprised. The squeaking of Scotty’s chair and the tapping of his stylus stopped. Spock allowed the moment to linger before continuing. “While Lt. Com. Scott and Lt. Uhura have indicated that their departments are working normally, I can only agree with the aspect that the work is being completed. There are several ways in which various crewmembers have not performed in peak condition.”

The light bulb turned on. “Are you talking about hangovers?” asked Jim.

Scotty scoffed. “If you can’t handle the hangover, don’t bloody drink anything.”

“Damn straight,” agreed Bones.

“That was only one aspect of what I was referring to, but since you have furthered the discussion on the subject, may I remind you, Doctor, that it is perhaps this attitude you have toward the consumption of alcohol – and toward your patients, in general – that prevents the crew from coming to Sickbay for the remedy, so that it would not affect their performance.”

“Now, wait just a damn minute!” said Bones. “I’m pretty sure you just told me how to run my department, Spock. Do you _really_ want to tell me how to run my department?”

 _And there it is_ , thought Jim. His ship was sinking again.

“You have misconstrued my meaning per usual, Doctor. I was merely mentioning one of the many factors attributable to the past week’s inefficiency.”

“Now he’s sayin’ I’m responsible for other people’s bad work! Well riddle me this, _Spock_ ,” the doctor snarled, lips forming the name like an insult. “You’re the only one here who’s admitted their department hasn’t been performing right, and maybe _that_ has to do with _your_ attitude about _our_ holidays! Besides, what the hell do you know about what goes on in Sickbay?”

“I know a great deal, Doctor,” the Vulcan replied icily. “Including the fact that Yeoman Rand’s illness is less likely due to a strange new virus than caused by the meal experiments the crew has been carrying out with the various foodstuffs that have been sent to the ship at this time of the Earth Year, but include delicacies from all over the galaxy. It was no doubt exacerbated by the consumption of copious amounts of homemade liquor from the still Mr. Scott has illegally built in a far corner of Engineering.”

“What?!” exclaimed Scotty, a little too quickly.

“What?!” said Uhura, surprised.

“ _What_?” Jim added, annoyed on several levels. When Bones didn’t add his voice to the chorus, Jim glared. Oh no, he didn’t.

Bones shifted under the scrutiny, apology warring with defiance. “Look, when people start showing up here with severe alcohol poisoning, I’m gonna ask what they drank, because I have to know how best to treat them.”

“Oh?” said Jim, feeling very uncharitable. “And this has _nothing_ to do with the fact that you share in Scotty’s _provisions_?” He didn’t know if he felt more like a petulant child, or the only adult present.

“I think it’s safe to say, even without my credentials,” Uhura announced before anyone else could chip in, “that there’s very little communication taking place in this ‘meeting.’” Okay, so maybe _she_ was being the responsible adult in the room.

Spock nodded to her and then turned to Jim. “Captain?” he prompted.

Jim rubbed his forehead. How had things gotten so out of hand? “New Year’s. We _will_ celebrate it. Great times had by all.”

“I disagree,” said Spock.

“If you hadn’t disagreed before, maybe this meeting would be over by now and you’d all get the hell out of my office!” snapped Bones, gesticulating at the door.

“Maybe,” Uhura snapped back, “Spock has more objections than people just being hung-over and distracted.”

Spock’s expression was as unreadable as ever, but he did look over at Uhura, and Jim wondered whether he was grateful for the interference, or annoyed by it. It struck Jim how difficult it must be for her sometimes, deciding how to delineate her private life from the professional one, and when and where she had to let Spock fight his own battles when she had so little to work from. Yet another deep-seated tension that Jim had failed to notice until now. “Spock?” he said, giving him the floor.

“Very well, Captain. Disregarding the distraction another celebration would provide, if we are to respect all cultures, then at what time, approximately, would the ship celebrate the New Year? As I assume we will not be having a twenty-four hour bacchanalia.”

“Bacchanalia?!” Bones barked with laughter.

“Why not just have it go along with San Francisco? We all went to the Academy,” suggested Uhura, successfully stifling further commentary. “You could calculate that for us even if we were at warp, couldn’t you, Scotty?”

“Aye, that I could do,” the engineer nodded.

“Good. That’s settled,” said Jim, with no little amount of relief. He needed to go back to his quarters and do some hardcore thinking.

Spock raised his pointer finger. “Not quite, Captain.”

“What now?” snarled Bones.

“Earth is not the only planet in the Federation. If we, as a non-discriminatory organization, were to celebrate the New Year according to the Terran calendar, then we must do the same for the other planets. This was not an issue last week since those holidays were specifically Terran. However, even ignoring other Terran cultures such as that of the Chinese, most planets have their own New Year’s customs.”

Bones waved a hand dismissively. “So pick a major city on every planet and we’ll acknowledge them throughout the day.”

“It is not so simple, Doctor,” Spock replied, tilting his head slightly. “Every planet has a different orbit around its own solar entity. That is not including the planets like Orcrons IX, which have more than one. In fact, the Standard Terran Calendar, while genius at the time of its conception, is rather simple in comparison to the calendars of many other planets.”

Bones sneered. “Oh, and I suppose the one for Vulcan is just leaps and bounds over everyone else’s?”

“Vulcan does not possess a calendar, Doctor, as it does not exist. If you are referring to the planet of the new Vulcan colony, it does not yet have a fully formulated calendar.”

Bones looked like he’d just been slapped. The others sat in stunned silence.

“You guys, I’m gonna level with you,” said Jim quietly. “I wanted to celebrate New Year’s because, like Spock said, it’s something that _everyone_ celebrates. It’s not about worrying what you’re gonna buy other people or sending thank you notes and getting in touch with people you don’t talk to for the rest of the year. It’s about…acknowledging what’s been left behind and how it’s changed you, and knowing that you’re moving on to bigger and better things. So much more to accomplish…and think of how far we’ve come and how much farther we can go in the next year. We’ve been on this mission for a couple of months now, and we’ve got a mostly young, inexperienced crew. I just thought it would be something that could bring everyone even closer together, and get people excited for the next few years to come. But what’s the point?” Jim spread his arms in supplication. “What’s the point of trying to help the masses if my own senior officers can’t even hold a civil conversation?”

No one replied.

Jim looked at each person in the room, people he considered his friends both old and new. Maybe it wasn’t fair, and maybe this was just a result of Jim being too blinded by the perception of his own so-called genius, but he felt betrayed. These were his senior officers, his confidants, his supposedly stalwart supporters. But did they even extend him the same trust he extended them, if they couldn’t even come to him when they were having problems with the others? Jim himself wasn’t a stickler for regs, and he didn’t mind Scotty having fun in Engineering, but would the man ever let him in on the secret, unsanctioned projects he was always working on? On _Jim’s_ ship? Would Uhura ever come to respect him enough that she would no longer use her linguistic talent to continually put him down without seeming to? Would the two kindest, most brilliant men…? Jim could hardly complete the thought. They had no respect for each other, it seemed. And somehow, therefore, little respect for him.

Each Human averted their eyes when his gaze fell upon them, but Spock met him head-on. They regarded each other for a moment.

“I think, Captain,” Spock said at length, “with those parameters, you have simply chosen the incorrect date.”

“Excuse me?” Jim murmured. That was certainly the last thing he’d expected to hear.

“I suggest that the crew have celebrated sufficiently for the time being. If your goal is to engender camaraderie and confidence in the crew itself, then the logical action would be to celebrate a ‘New Year’ on the anniversary of our departure from Earth.”

Now it was Jim who was at a loss for words. The solution did, in fact, seem logical. He thought back to when they’d all set off on their mission: donning the command gold for the first time, wheedling Bones until he’d come up to the bridge for the launch, Chekov grinning like, well, a kid at Christmas, Sulu sitting in the pilot seat as if he owned it, Spock arriving at the last minute like a miracle…What wasn’t there to celebrate?

Jim must have been silent too long. Spock added, “I do concede that it would be nine point two three Earth months before such a celebration would take place, and you were looking for something rather more immediate.”

“No, Spock, I…”

“It’s a good idea, Jim,” said Bones gently. Jim whipped his head around to face him. “Now I’m a doctor, not a psychologist, but I’d say in order for everyone to be happy for the next five years, they’re going to have to consider this ship their home. We have to be more than coworkers. We have to be _family_. A giant dysfunctional one, maybe, but still a family. So you could announce this week when we’ll be celebrating New Year’s, and how we’ll all appreciate being together and alive, miracle of miracles.”

Jim eyed his CMO, then his first officer, and then Bones again, feeling a wild surge of hope. “Did you just agree with Spock?”

Everyone else looked expectantly at him for an answer, and seeing this Bones sighed. “Well, I agree with him about something else, too, with all this talk about orbits and whatnot.” He leaned over and opened a drawer in his desk, resurfacing with a bottle of good Southern whiskey in one hand and a shot glass on each finger of the other. He set them all down with a variety of clunks and clinks. “It’s New Year’s somewhere, right?” he asked, unscrewing the cap on the bottle.

The other three Humans looked at Spock. The Vulcan opened his mouth – surely on the brink of telling the doctor that alcohol was against regulations – but then he closed it.

Miracle of miracles indeed.

For another moment the only sound in the room was the sloshing of liquid against glass. Then Bones replaced the cap, put away the bottle, and moved four of the shot glasses toward the others. Looking Spock straight in the eye, he lifted up his own. Though the other glasses were clearly meant for Jim, Uhura, and Scotty, Jim made no move for his shot and the others followed suit. All eyes were on Spock.

Hesitantly – and it was rare to see Spock so hesitant – he reached for the shot glass nearest him and raised it to the level of McCoy’s. Immediately the other three took up their own. “Happy New Year’s!” shouted Scotty, and they all downed their whiskey. Jim groaned at the smooth burn; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d drunk such good quality liquor.

With the exception of Spock, who put his down with nary a clink, everyone slammed their glasses back onto the desk. Bones leaned back in his chair, but Jim, Uhura, and Scotty stayed on the edges of their seats, beaming. Spock suddenly found the regulation design of the floor very interesting and Bones faintly blushed. “What?” he muttered.

Jim wiggled his eyebrows and Uhura cleared her throat in a manner that sounded suspiciously like she was covering a laugh. Scotty propelled his chair so it hit the side of Bones’s again, throwing his arm around the doctor’s shoulders. “So, Commander,” he addressed Spock, “will you be imbibing anymore with us this fine day?”

Spock sat up straight on his stool once more. “That would be illogical. Vulcans are not affected by alcohol.”

“Really?” asked Jim, who was still in a sort of golden haze of happy.

“Yes, which means more for me,” said Uhura. “I can’t remember the last time I had a good quality whiskey. How’d you sneak that onboard?” Jim grinned, because it looked like he and Uhura were finally in agreement about something as well.

“Medicinal purposes,” said Bones sanctimoniously.

Which actually reminded Jim. “How in the hell were you able to build a still on my ship, Scotty?”

The Scotsman shrugged. “Oh well, bits and bobs are always lying around Engineering, Cap’n.”

“Nothing that could be put to better use, I trust,” said Spock dryly.

Jim turned to him. “You knew about it! And you didn’t say anything!”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “I assumed you had known about it, Captain, and that you had decided to let it continue. However, now that I am aware of the truth, I can possibly convince you-”

“No, no, Cap’n!” Scotty interjected. “Medicinal purposes, like the doctor said!”

“Well, that moonshine of yours might kill bacteria,” mused Bones, twirling his empty shot glass, “but it’s the whiskey here that does the body good.”

“Whiskey? Please,” the engineer scoffed. “Give me a good bottle of scotch any day.”

“Scotch? Are you out of your damn mind?”

“This argument is illogical, as scotch is merely a certain type of whiskey. Furthermore, neither of them ‘do good’ to the bodies of Humans.”

Jim smiled at his first officer. “Bones, is that really true about Vulcans and alcohol, or is Spock just pulling our collective leg?”

The angle of Spock’s eyebrow said that he was trying to picture the odd idiom, and did not like what he saw. Bones chuckled. “Yeah, it’s true. It’s too bad, though. I think Vulcans could use some loosening up.”

“Perhaps some Humans could use some ‘sobering up,’” Spock replied easily, nothing like the veiled barbs from a few minutes ago.

“Come on, there’s gotta be something like alcohol for Vulcans,” Jim insisted.

“Why do you care, Kirk?” said Uhura. “Are you trying to get my boyfriend drunk?”

“Yes.” Jim smirked as she narrowed her eyes. “I bet you know a way, don’t you, Uhura?”

“Ugh!” Bones looked like he’d just swallowed something sour. “Sometimes I _hate_ HIPAA.”

“There’s got to be something you can tell us, Bones,” said Jim.

“Sickbay isn’t a rumor mill,” he retorted. “I’m a doctor, not a gossipmonger.”

“Alright then,” Jim said, tipping his chair back. “Uhura, you tell us a story.”

She shrugged. “Communications has its own version of HIPAA, you know.”

“We don’t have to take an oath down in Engineering! I can talk about it all I like,” Scotty said, throwing his arm wide- and holding the PADD that he hadn’t been writing on for some time.

“Good thing, with how much you drink,” teased Uhura.

“Oi! I hold my drink like a man. Besides, why do you have to take an oath anyway? Doesn’t that fall under Starfleet protocol already?”

Uhura sat back in her chair and crossed her legs. “My department processes personal communications, too.”

“So you _do_ have dirt.” Jim grinned wickedly.

She rolled her eyes. “Not all of it’s juicy, Kirk. Most of it’s boring, and then there’s protocol. I swear if I have to hear the word ‘frequency’ one more time, I’ll scream.”

“FREQUENCY!” Kirk, Bones, and Scotty shouted, bursting into laughter. Uhura smiled despite herself and Spock raised both eyebrows.

“Seriously, though,” Jim continued. “If you can’t share everything you hear, then how does Spock know about all this shit that’s been going down that no one’s even brought to me?”

Spock turned to him. “If a captain cannot police his own ship-”

“That’s what security is for!”

“And if members of the security team participate in said activities?”

“And if senior staff members don’t come to the captain with questions or concerns?” Jim challenged, mood turning. The balm of their shared shot had not done enough to assuage his pang of betrayal, it seemed. “If they make changes to the ship without informing him, or make assumptions about what he knows without asking him first, or avoid meetings that he’s set up to get them all together?” The smiles faded from people’s faces.

“Hey,” said Bones gruffly. “We’re with ya, kid.”

“Are you?” Jim shot back, hating the slight trace of hurt that slipped through the anger.

“Yes,” agreed Spock. “We are.”

Jim let out a breath. “Good,” he said.

It was a start.


End file.
